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This article was written by SiloKal. Please do not add to it without the writer's permission.
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| Our Final Judgment | |
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| Story | |
| Setting |
Spherus Magna, near New Atero
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| Date Set |
Unknown
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Our Final Judgement is a short story written by SiloKal, depicting Toa Zevvar's death
Story[]
From where Toa Zevvar stood in the small Parauri forest to the north of the vast Bota Magna region, he could just make out the city of New Atero, like a vivid beacon of light in the pitch-black ocean of the night. The city was beautiful, not just physically but also in its very concept; it represented the fact that unity could overcome any obstacle – Zevvar realised that he was being a little sentimental, but he liked the idea just the same. Taking one last look at the golden metropolis, he turned his head and continued his patrol of the night-time woodland.“Patrol” was hardly the word for it – although he was technically making the rounds of the forest to guard the city from what Turaga Onua would call “Spirits of Destruction”, this was his favourite terrain (despite him not being a toa of Air or “The Green”) and he was thoroughly enjoying himself. When the city’s world went to sleep, another one was just waking up and having late night breakfast: the nocturnal voices of hundreds of thousands of rahi and creatures chirruped, growled, buzzed and squawked their way into life.
It was not like there was even much of a threat anymore: the Rock tribe had been disbanded and most of its open-minded former-members had been welcomed into other tribes. The Bone-Hunters became part of the Union and abandoned their nomadic ways, still violent but in a more…lawful way if at all possible. The Dark Hunter organization had gone into hiding; at least until things cleared up a bit (recent history had taken its toll and the aftermath would last for a while longer) but they would no doubt soon be selling their services of assassination and theft to the new civilisation.
Zevvar’s train of thought was derailed by a sudden loud humming that filled the night air for a few seconds followed by a sound like fog horn and an intense burst of white light from the west of the forest, causing a huge flock of Ekera birds to fly squawking from their perch above the origin of the sound. The toa was just wondering what on Spherus could have made the noise when another blast of deafening sonics was unleashed, this time nearer. This was followed by a metallic voice declaring a string of incomprehensible jargon and a scream which was then cut off. Silence filled the forest.
The Fe-Toa was struck by panic; on the whole, he had only two options: he could travel back to the city (which would take the best part of an hour) and get help from the toa there, by which time the thing or person making the noise might have killed more people (if that’s what it was doing – by the sound of that scream, this seemed to be the most likely occurrence) or his other option was to stay here and try to fight the thing himself before more people were killed (of course this option also had the possibility of him getting killed).
Surely nothing in these woods was something a toa couldn’t handle? Surely? But Zevvar knew that the turaga had never expected something that one toa couldn’t handle, which was why he was here alone. Maybe…maybe it would be best for everyone if he went back to call for reinforcements…best for you, you mean, said his conscience. After all, he thought, I’m not exactly the heroic type…you’re a toa! The very word means hero! You cannot abandon your duty or you will never reach your destiny.
Luckily, Zevvar didn’t have to make a choice; as he turned, he came mask to face with what at first glance would be considered a mass of titanic trees but, the toa realised, trees that hadn’t been there a moment ago. With a grinding of cogs and hissing of pistons, as slowly as the death of worlds, the thing unfolded itself into the shape of a colossal mechanical giant, roughly glatorianesque in shape, but four times the height of any toa and twice as wide. An uncontrollable sense of dread and awe routed Zevvar to the spot as one baleful eye ignited with cold blue fire in what he presumed to be the being’s head.
His hands trembling, Zevvar tried to provoke his elemental power and reach out to the iron ore in the earth beneath the creature’s feet, but something pushed it back and contained it within his physical body. “What are you?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. In reply, the thing raised the pulsating, humming barrel of some of kind launcher until it was barely a meter away from Zevvar’s head. Then it said, in a voice as loud as thunder and as impassive and cold as steel: “I AM SALVATION”
Then it fired.